Writer, historian and fibre fiend talks about life in Ireland, travel in odd places, dogs, cats, scenery, knitting, and that constant search for the unusual and undiscovered.

Sunday, December 11, 2011

Twenty Thousand Projects Under The Sofa

Seventy-six projects led the big parade,One hundred and ten WIPs close behind.They were followed by rows and rows of forgotten UFOs...

It's got to stop. One particularly gloomy wet day last week, I incautiously dislodged a bale of fabric from the elongated piano stool that does duty as gather-all in the upstairs sitting room. It was a double bale of fabric, in fact, several yards each of bright pink and dark navy cotton jersey which I'd picked up for a song somewhere, some time back, with some idea in mind, now forgotten. That isn't topmost in my mind right now.

What is topmost is the fact that in so dislodging the fabric, I toppled an enormous logjam (can you topple a logjam? What exactly do you do with a logjam? Stab at it?) of carrier bags, small baskets, project holders, loose skeins and patterns. A pair of unfinished socks, started in Iceland last July. The beautiful front of a cabled jacket in unbelievably expensive alpaca silk aran weight. One bright red Origami sock, with its fellow just started, barely past the toe. And so on.

Now most times I can deal with situations like this. The normal practice is carefully to replace the covering material and go away to cast on for something new, right? That's what The Big Book of Advice To Obsessive Crafters would say. But, as I mentioned, it was a gloomy wet day, just right for pondering the Meaning of Life and particularly The Meaning of Startitis.

Because these past few months have been pretty appalling on that front. If Startitis be a vice, then the Celtic Memory establishment has been a riot of debauchery. What was I doing? What was I thinking? Was I thinking at all? Is sheer self-indulgence all there is to the human brain these days? (Don't bother answering that one.)

The heart was heavy, but the soul knew there was only one thing to do. Gather up all the WIPs. All of them. Lay them out, photograph them in the totality of their sad unfinished states. And then (courage, mon brave) let all of blogger land see them. Be truthful. Maybe, just maybe it will cure you of this reprehensible habit for once and for all (who's that laughing at the back?)

The memories come flooding back as each one is hauled out into the light of day. This cabled jacket in alpaca silk aran weight is going to be beautiful. And the yarn was just too expensive for it not to reach completion! It's already been started as two different projects, but interest waned, and it was frogged for another try. Some of the rewound balls are starting to look tired and whine for a bath. Then they'll look different to their new, fresh, as-yet untried colleagues. They always do.

Ah the Brigit jacket. Using that ingenious design from Starmore, on gorgeously smooth rich wool tracked down at Pierre Loye et Cie in Provence last May. It was a total bargain this yarn in the Campanule shade, and the jacket will be unforgettable. As was the scent of the little apricot trees in the sundrenched yard where we parked the car and DH photographed black redstarts while I ran wild in the bargain shed. (Brought home the kernels from some ripe apricots which we sampled from those trees, and actually managed to get them to sprout. Annoyingly, a marauding rabbit found them and nipped off each lush little plant at the root. Will they sprout again or will they give up? They're in the greenhouse, thinking about it for the winter.)

Secured this navy chenille, beautifully plush and thick, at the same place as the Campanule. Hidden in the bottom of a bargain bin on the floor, at such a price I would have been insane to leave it behind. A delicious crochet waistcoat, with tiny fob pockets (you can barely see those), but will there be enough to finish the back? The chance of finding more of the same yarn is unlikely, to say the least. And I'm not planning to drive down around Provence any time soon (bit chilly this time of year anyway). But one could almost get the scent of the orange blossom, the sound of the cicadas just by handling it...

It's my own fault, I shouldn't have grabbed a couple of balls of the chenille to take on a trip for which the chosen project was a Jane Thornley lookalike vest. But there it is again - that overwhelming desire to begin with the new love, instantly, immediately, without a second's delay. I mean, taking yarn from one project to start another? What kind of behaviour is that?

Ah the Icelandic socks. I remember the evening well. We'd spent all day driving in and out of long inlets on the Westerfjords, distances which could have been covered in two minutes if we'd happened to have wings and could fly straight, and came in a grey evening twilight to a small fishing village. Yes, it was the very place we had breakfast with the sorcerer next morning, now I come to think of it. I got that overwhelming urge to be working on a pair of socks and rushed down to the tiny local shop. You couldn't have called it a supermarket, but yet, there among the potatoes and the tinned beans, the spades and the saucepans, was a rack of knitting yarn and needles. Got two shades of Einband and two circulars, and was as happy as Larry for the rest of the night. There are times when only socks will do. And there aren't that many countries where you can find the makings thereof at 9pm in the middle of nowhere, are there?

Gosh, I remember exactly where I got this divine tweedy Italian cashmere. It was in School Products, up several flights of stairs in a decrepit old building on Broadway, NY, NY, and while I was fingering it lovingly, Berta Karapetyan was telling me about her change of heart from crochet to knitting (because you get smoother more draping effects with knitting) and also how she found knitting machines extremely useful for doing the long plain sections, leaving her the energy and inclination to spend absolutely ages on the complex bits. And when I'd left Berta, I went way up Fifth Avenue and had tea in that divine Japanese shop where they have all the lovely knitting books. It's going to be a beautifully cosy cowl - but for which winter?

And speaking of winter, this is a bright red stocking cap, in the Finnish style, for a new baby girlfriend, and I am absolutely determined to get it done and on her little head this winter, no matter what. In fact, in the early stages of this appalling realisation of just how many projects there were unfinished, grabbed this and stayed up really late one night last week to get some work done on it.

And therein lay my downfall. Because I watched The Holiday on tv, didn't I? And Cameron Diaz wore That Jacket in it, didn't she? Dear heaven, lay awake until 4am agonising over the right kind of yarn to use for such a project - a light colour of course, to show off the cables, but not too heavy a yarn. Cameron's was light and almost fuzzy, as you'd expect from someone normally living in LA who goes to her favourite boutique on Rodeo Drive to enquire what one should wear in an English winter.

Eventually remembered all that unspun Icelandic I'd carried home from the summer trip and fell asleep happily at dawn. It's a nice silver gray, which is only marginally more practical for fireside wear than Cameron's pure white, but it's knitting up beautifully. Just right for adding a welcome layer of warmth.

Ah yes, warmth. Intending to hunt for the Northern Lights this winter at some stage, so thought lined mittens would be a Good Idea. My own hand-dyed cashmere/silk for the outer layer, possum wool for the interior. Put on the embroidery halfway along the project and all, as it would be difficult to do once the whole thing is finished, as there is no division between outer and inner layers. So why isn't this one done, and its fellow well under way, since my fingers are icy right now, typing at my desk? (Not that you could type in mittens, but you get the idea.)

Good heavens, had quite forgotten the Origami Socks. Chanced on a remaindered copy of Knitted Socks East and West while away somewhere, and fell for these instantly, buying the bright red wool in two different shops because each had only one. It involved driving several miles too, I remember. It's a very pretty pattern. And yes, it deserves finishing. They'd look great for wearing on Christmas morning.

Are we there yet? Are we heck as like. My dear friend Tricia started her annual Advent Scarf KAL and how could I not participate this year? And there is the Lintilla shawl languishing somewhere, it's in soft dark green mousse yarn and it's going to look exactly like that worn so fetchingly while shopping, by Kate, Duchess of Cambridge - WHEN it's finished. Can't even find that at the moment. Didn't have the courage to haul out the huge bag with the almost-completed gansey in cream Stella yarn, because there is a lurking fear, amounting almost to certainty, that an overwhelming flood of 'what on earth was I thinking of when I started THIS?' will sweep across it. And that Stella has been tried and frogged several times already in OTHER gansey projects.

It was bad enough, starting that Fireside or Holiday jacket, although in defence, what would you have done, seeing Cameron Diaz slinking around a cute English cottage in it and ensnaring Jude Law into the bargain? (Never mind that she couldn't possibly have lit that log fire and fed the resident dog, let alone worn it to bed with a bottle of wine, while still maintaining the pristinity of the white wool. That's what you call poetic licence, I think.) But wandering around Ravelry the other night, as you do, I saw the most amazing shawl pattern (Zuni, I think, but don't quote me) which was nice enough in fingering weight but which immediately shrieked to be created in a really thick, ultra-luxurious yarn that would make a positive blanket of cuddliness for the cold weather. I have almost-matching supplies of rich angora and supremely soft alpaca (one from France, one from Norway) in my favourite violet shade, which together would make a thing of beauty. They're calling softly to me now from the sitting room. 'Come here and touch us,' they are crooning. 'Find the right circular this moment. We want to be with you! Wouldn't it be lovely to start playing with us tonight?'

I've got to face up to this problem that I seem to have developed. I'm not sure what to do. I would welcome constructive suggestions for dealing with it. Two lots of constructive suggestions actually. Firstly, how to stop starting things. And secondly, how to start finishing things.

20 comments:

I simply have no recommendations for you, Jo....I suffer the same condition. I don't have the number of items OTN right now cause I don't do cardigans or vests (too much sewing up involved). And finally have only one pair of socks OTN. But I surely do have the yarn to knit almost anything that catches my eye! And a lot of things catch my eye!

When I find myself with Twenty Thousand Projects Under The Sofa (which may, or may not be the case this very instant -- I'm admitting nothing), I make myself a deal for every project I finish, I get to start one. Sometimes it works. Sometimes I accidentally start two...

No recommendations for how to stop the scourge of Startitis, but I have some for slowing it, and inviting Finishitis to come play. Work a little on each project, until you feel Startitis lurking again, and then switch to another UFO. That might help a little, I hope.

Ah Jo, the only good thing is that you are definitely not alone. I tried collecting all my started projects in one spot, er, large part of the room, and found there were two that I had no pattern for, and had no idea what I'd been aiming for with them. My solution was to frog those two. Hardly a great solution, as the yarn then got added to the mightily large pile of handspun here. Maybe that's the idea - if it doesn't grab you any more, make it into skeins again.

I even had a shrug that I'd finished knitting months ago, and after half an hour of sewing, it was finished. I felt ridiculously proud of myself for that one!

Sigh, I'm definitely following your debauched ways, although I think I'm far ahead of you with WIPs. Since you have so daringly bared your breast publicly, I shall try to follow suit soon. I'm afraid it will make me feel really truly guilty. But I have such a case of "Oooh, new and shiny" I'm wondering if it will ever happen. I do try to finish one project for every two I start. You can do the math.

Being in the same situation, I have been thinking long and deep for an action plan. Pick one project of the UFO's and stick to it till the finish. Put the others out of sight. Repeat this till everything is finished. Not looking too often to Ravelry can help!

oh Jo -- you are brave to bare your WIPS/UFOs to the blogging light of day! I don't think I have that kind of fortitude... I know I have more than I should, lurking in baskets and boxes in the closet. And yet, it's winter, and hats and mitts must be knit Now!, right?

Best version of "76 Trombones" EVER! Now I feel better about my own startitis, not to mention the amorphous pile of UFOs. I like Cathryn's idea of switching from one UFO to another when you feel a twitch of startitis. And if you pick the items that can be completed most quickly, say the socks or the mitt, you can strike a few things off the list almost immediately, which will give you a boost of satisfaction. Also, I think those crocheted weskit fronts need a smart woven-fabric back - no worries about needing more yarn now!-- Gretchen

If part of the problem is fading interest in completing a project, is there any chance you could start up a "here, finish this for me" group of startitis-challenged knitters and swap UFOs around to someone who would love to work with some of those gorgeous yarns, but who would be happy to return the finished object to the original starter?

Did that make sense?

I'm not very fast, but I can do intricate stitches (have completed two St. Brigids, for example). My problem is that I can't begin to use the finished objects as much as they deserve to be worn and shown around and admired.

I'd love to volunteer to finish complicated articles that I won't have to worry about wearing, just for the experience of handling some of the yarns you've described.

Well, that list looks ok to me... I have 7 cardigans/sweaters on the needles and I started the Incredible Cruelty skirt this morning. I have several shawls & socks on the needles as well. I am also waiting for 2 patterns for test knits to be published in a book in the next year. I have decided though that in 2012 I will make 12 sweaters so those are going to get finished and I'll be allowed to start new ones too.I've also been thinking that I'll start to do what I used to do with my cross stitching way back when: a rotation. Pick a couple of projects (start with 5 or so) of different kinds/difficulty) and work on 10 hours on each one. Once you're done with working 10 hours on each of the 5 projects you get to add a new project (start something or add another UFO). Once you've done 10 hours on that one, you start again with number one and so on. If you finish a project you add another one.If you stick to this, you get a lot of variety AND projects get finished AND you get to start new things as well.Cheers, Eva - who has way more UFO's/WIP's and doesn't feel guilty about it... yet :)

I made myself a new rule recently--must finish 3 WIPs or UFOs before I cast on anything new--my husband thinks that's the most ridiculous thing he's ever heard. But in the past month, some UFOs have been "upgraded" to WIPs, and FOs have appeared, and I'm trying hard to organize the queue... I have some little people I love to knit for, and somehow it's hard to include their items in the rules, as they must be finished before they're grown out of. So that's a parallel universe...

Last time I saw "Holiday" on TV I almost wore out Google looking for that sweater. If I remember correctly it is 100% Cashmere (yes, that needs capitalization, does it not?) What else would Cammie wear?

I cannot wisely advise you on stopping starting, or on starting finishing. I have an awful lot on the needles, too, but I do have a "sort-of-rule" that if I start a New Thing, I must work on an Existing Thing for at least a little while the same day, and I actually do work on a different thing or two for a little while almost every day. When I do that steadily, I occasionally seem to have a cascade of Finished Objects in a period of just a few weeks. It can happen.

Everything, just everything, in your queue is dead-on gorgeous. I'm a sucker for cables and for anything Starmore.